


Forbidden Past

by Dogsled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-06
Updated: 2006-08-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsled/pseuds/Dogsled
Summary: When Harry wakes up, little does he know just where he's gone to...or what is inevitably going to befall him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Harry stumbled dazedly to his bed, his hands clutched tightly across his abdomen as though trying to hold his insides inside and his eyes pressed closed, just in case his eyes popped out of their sockets in his pain. He didn't need them open to know the way. He fell forwards as his knees collided onto the edge of it and tumbled unceremoniously onto the thick blankets just beneath his pillow, face down.

Daring to open his eyes, Harry found that the darkness had only gotten worse in the cramped room, and lying down had hurt him more than anything else, but he couldn't move. His limbs and muscles simply refused to work in this pain, and his head wasn't too happy about any swerve or motion, the tunneled fuzzy black closing in on him further if he even tried.

Harry was faintly aware of being consumed by a heat so intense and horrible that it made him scream, muffled into the pillows, closing his eyes. He bit his lip to silence any further cries of pain and stretched out on the bed. It felt better that way.

And then there was the hissing. It was quiet at first, building up for all those spare seconds Harry lay there, shaking and trembling, his skin hot enough to heat even Snape's chilly dungeons. He let a groan into his pillow as the sound became earsplitting...and then there was just blackness.

The first thing Harry noticed when he came around was that he was no longer in that intense pain any more - everything had cleared away, even the dizzy feeling in his head. The hissing had gone too. Slowly he opened his eyes and found that he was greeted with a very peculiar sight.

Instead of facing the next bed across from him on a Summer's morning, to see Neville lying there, as usual, he found that he wasn't even in his bed any more. He could feel the back of a sofa behind him, and it was quite clearly nighttime in mid-October. He could tell because this particular room he had visited before, and it was usually filled with students and relatively brightly lit. He knew the second fact because there were Pumpkins in every corner of the room that seemed to shift their terrifying faces as though to make you think you were being watched.

But something else was making Harry think he was being watched. There was a dark figure in the corner of the room, sitting in a chair at a desk, his hand poised with quill, as though he had been rudely interrupted in his study. He was staring straight at Harry.

"How did you get there?" He asked, vindictively. Harry distinctly recognised that voice, but he couldn't quite place it. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around slowly, taking in every part of the Slytherin common room. It looked...newer. He could still smell the leather on the sofa.

"Well...?" Came the voice again, and the figure put down his quill and stood up. Despite being in seventh year, tall, attractive and well built for his age due to his many dealings with the magic world, Harry found that this boy was more like a Slytherin Cedric in proportion. He could tell from the way he walked that he was very confident, and that attractive features were hidden from him in the near darkness.

"I...I don't know. One minute I was asleep and then I was here..." His voice stuttered slightly, and this brought a cruel smile to the lips of the one who stepped from the shadows at that point, to the lips of Tom Riddle himself, Lord Voldemort.

Harry knew he recognised that voice.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat and he just stared up at him with wide eyes. He pushed back in the sofa slightly, as though he could force it to swallow him. It didn't. Instead it only gave time for Riddle to get closer.

"A time traveler then?" Riddle's eyes were flickering with something dangerous, and they seemed to be examining Harry very carefully. Instinctively, Harry's hand went up to flatten his hair over his scar slightly.

"Time traveler? Where...I mean, when am I?" Harry's wide eyes were fixed on Riddle, and both fear and surprise were dancing there. Tom's cruel smile, if it were at all possible, grew even more vicious.

"The year is 1946." Riddle said, nonchalantly, stepping close, his fingers lifting to brush over Harry's forehead, forcing the hair out of his eyes, and from off his scar. He ran his fingers slowly down it and Harry practically leapt in the seat. It was searing in pain.  
He growled softly as he brought his hand up to it. "Don't do that again." There was warning in his voice, and Riddle looked impressed.

"Spoken like a Slytherin," he purred contentedly, then sank down on the sofa beside Harry, staring at him with those dark eyes intently. "If you give me your name, and the century you came from, I will be able to send you back."

Harry wasn't fooled easily; this was Lord Voldemort in his glory after all. "But you'll want something in return..." he muttered gently. It didn't matter though, did it, because whatever happened here, he had still killed Voldemort in the future, not long weeks ago.  
Riddle smirked and tipped his head slightly towards Harry. "Very clever, boy. Now. Before we proceed, I, am Tom Riddle, or the 1940s, and you are...?"

Harry swallowed. He had been running this over in his head. But there was a knowing glint in Tom's eyes as he stared down at Harry, like he was burrowing deep into his mind without his knowledge, taking the information before it was told.

"I'm Ron Weasley." He barked the first name to come to his mind, and his friends was it. Riddle looked at him with amused interest.  
"Using Polyjuice Potion to hide your disgusting heritage, Weasley, I don't blame you. Try again."

Harry snarled, his upper lip rising slightly. He chose Dean, his wasn't a pureblood family.

"Dean Thomas, then."

Riddle shook his head and sighed, reaching to take Harry's hands. "Neither, Mr. Potter are these a hand of an artist, nor, I note, is your colour anything like Dean's."

Harry was quaking. Yes, Riddle knew. How could he not? He, Harry, had to be the poorest Occlumencer in the world, and as Riddle was a talented Legilimencer, he could take any piece of information he liked with a single look.

"So you killed me last month, Potter? I don't believe you could." Riddle looked slightly amused by the idea actually and he leant a little closer. Harry had the odd feeling of a wild creature trapped in wandlight in the forbidden forest. He bit his lip, but Riddle didn't stop approaching. "It is interesting though, that you should come to me after you kill me so that I can return the favor."

Harry let out a miserable cry as Riddle suddenly pressed him down to the sofa. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. And then something strange happened, Riddle closed his lips over Harry's.

There was nothing that could stop the cry that escaped Harry's lips at that. He had only ever kissed one girl, and that was Cho in fifth year. He was at the end of his seventh now, but until just recently, the threat of Voldemort had hung persistently at his shoulder, added to his sadness at losing Black, one of the few people he loved most in all the world.

Now Voldemort was kissing him. This attacked Harry in three ways. Firstly, it was a guy, secondly, it was his mortal enemy, and thirdly, he was actually kind of enjoying it. Harry hadn't exactly had time to think about his sexuality...but this kiss was so much better than Cho's rather wet, slobbery one. This was bestial. Riddle was claiming him with that kiss, pressing him more into the sofa, his tongue rising to press past Harry's slack lips to taste before Harry could force him away.

Harry found he didn't want to. He lifted his hands, curling around Riddle's shoulders, holding the Slytherin counterpart closer. His lips responded in the way that Riddle's had taught him, eagerly pressing back at him, sloppily kissing back in a way he found new and exciting, his tongue lifting to spar with Tom's.

Riddle's, pushing Harry's back, forcing him to submit, made it quite clear that this was his game.

The Slytherin retreated, his piercing eyes on Harry. Something malicious was dancing there as always, but Harry wasn't paying any heed to it, as Riddle said. "Here or in my bed?"

Harry's groan sounded something like `Bed,' and Riddle licked his lips. All was going to plan. Slowly he swept to his feet, going back to the table to recover his wand and papers. "Go through the forest green door on your right, then the first door on the left. Silently, the boys are always vigilant. It's a Slytherin trait. Mine is the bed furthest from the door. Make yourself comfortable."

Harry nodded very gently and slid to his feet, albeit trembling. Was he following Riddle's orders? Riddle seemed so carefree. It couldn't be a trap. He eased out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been coveting, and swept through the doors on well trained, silent feet. He slunk into the empty bed, and Riddle came in moments after him, his wand raised. He muttered something, and then stepped into bed.

"It's okay. You can speak as loud as you want, scream as loud as you have to. Noone will hear you in here."

Harry nodded and lowered his head, then looked up. Riddle's lips were curved into a malicious smile and Harry swallowed and repeated slowly. "Scream...as loud as I...have to?"

Riddle nodded, that smile growing more mal-intended. Harry pushed himself back across the bed and tried to walk for the door, but a force field knocked him straight back on the bed.

"Are you trying to run away, Harry, after I've gone to all this trouble?"

Harry's eyes snapped back to Riddle and he pressed back, not too far to walk into the barrier. "What is this? You passed through it as easy as anything."

Riddle slid to his feet and stepped in and out of the barrier, as though to show Harry that this was true.

"Then..." His mind whirred. He was trapped inside, and Riddle could come and go as he pleased.

Riddle raised his eyes. "I always get what I want. You know that. Harry, come here." Harry stood perfectly still, still glaring at Riddle, looking as though he might attack him.

"Come now, Harry, the future says that you can't kill me yet."

"But if I kill you now...maybe my parents wouldn't die."

Riddle lifted his eyes. "And then, Harry, why would you have killed me now, not knowing what I would become in the future?"

Harry trembled and turned his eyes away. He couldn't do it, because even if he did, he would then not do it, so he couldn't possibly have done it in the first place, because in this timeline, Riddle would survive to kill his parents.

Harry nodded. He didn't have to sacrifice his life. Riddle watched him again and spoke once more, knowing Harry understood.

"If you give me this freely, then I will return you directly to the point in time at which you originated. If you do not, however..."

Harry knew the threat. If he didn't, then Harry would remain trapped in this bubble until he was Voldemort's loyal servant. He bit his lip and turned to look across at the silent sleepers in the other beds. They couldn't hear him, couldn't see him. He had no choice at all.

Harry returned obediently to Riddle's side on the bed, tipping his head forwards, lowering it. The other boy moved back, brushing his hair around slightly, kissing down the back of Harry's neck. He groaned slightly and bit his lip, closing his eyes. This wasn't Voldemort doing this...it was just a boy.

Harry trembled at that thought. Just a boy? Did this make him a whore, so long as the person caught him? He closed his eyes. He knew several of the wizarding community who wouldn't mind making such a use of him, just to say that they'd fucked Harry Potter. Voldemort was different. They were mutual enemies, this was the ultimate enmity, and it was Harry who was on the receiving end, losing. Somehow, this was different, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. It was almost like, even though he had defeated to Voldemort, he had also lost to him. His family, his friends, and even his virginity.

Riddle gave a sudden choking noise and straightened up, peering over Harry's shoulder. "You're a virgin?"

"You're reading my thoughts." Harry snapped back, trying to change the subject. He knew this would make it all the worse for him.

"I am not `reading your thoughts.' Horrid Muggle term..." Riddle changed the subject back. "You're still a virgin, Harry." It wasn't a question.

"Yes..." Harry whispered listlessly, looking down at his feet, and Riddle tried to conceal his laughter. He had a perfect way to con Harry to relax now.

"Don't worry, Harry." He said, in the softest tone he had, but there was still cruelty lacing it. "I will be gentle with you, I swear. No harm will come to you during our time. You've got a beautiful body, Harry. I wouldn't want to break it."

Harry found himself crooning slightly at that, and Riddle smiled and let a delighted noise as the Gryffindor boy wonder rested back against his shoulder. Riddle almost shook his head and laughed. Virgins were so easy to play.

He went back to his affections, nibbling down Harry's neck again, his fingers creeping around to pull the other slowly out of pajamas. He wanted to see Harry naked, to admire his no doubt strong form. Riddle licked his lips. Before he took off the other's pajama bottoms he ran his fingers down over Harry's naked stomach and abdomen, making him shiver, pressing below the elasticized waistband to stroke over the hardness beneath.

Harry had masturbated before, but the rough inquisitiveness of another's hand, coupled with not knowing exactly what it was going to do, make him buck his hips forwards and he almost fell off the edge of the bed. He also gave a rough shout. "Oh Merlin! Voldemort!"

Riddle let himself chuckle at that. This was going to be interesting indeed. The first time somebody unfamiliar called him `Voldemort' would be by the boy who killed him the future, as he stole his virginity. He chuckled at that. There was something delightful about it, that he could take all this from the boy before he died.

He withdrew his hand, realising he had been stroking the now stiff post effortlessly, and Harry had been squirming into his every touch. Riddle slipped back and motioned for Harry to move. Obediently, Harry slid back on the bed, lying central, his legs slightly apart to make it less painful for himself, his arms back behind his head.

Yes. And Harry was going to give his virginity freely to the pre-adult Dark Lord, Voldemort. Riddle barely kept the laugh down this time as it rose to the surface. He moved to strip off the boy's pajama bottoms and pushed him up so his feet rested flat against the bed, and his knees were up in the air, legs apart wide, so that Riddle had the full delight of his view.

He stepped back thoughtfully for a moment, walked up and down the sides of the bed slowly, as though admiring his handiwork, the panting, occasionally moaning, sweat drowned Adonis that was Harry Potter, on his bed, legs wide and inviting. Silently he stole away, returning with something that looked suspiciously like a camera. Harry let out a cry of protest, but Riddle took the picture none the less, and set it aside. A nice wizard's photo, that was. He could probably sell it. He stepped closer slowly, sliding onto his hands and knees as he crawled onto the bed and approached Harry slowly.

The Gryffindor trembled slightly and leant back on the bed, waiting for Riddle, and the other came up to him, positioning himself so Harry's legs settled comfortably on his hips. Riddle was still dressed, and he carefully moved so that Harry could feel the hardness of his enemy, even through his thick Slytherin robes.

Harry arched obediently at that, and Riddle had the unexplainable urge of wanting to screw Harry senseless at that exact moment, just because he could. Instead, painstakingly slowly, Riddle brought his fingers down the other's chest, followed closely by his lips. He traced patterns over Harry's nipples with his tongue, grazed them quite forcibly with his his teeth, and then descended a little further, tracing eager lips over Harry's navel, as though he would simply pass, and then driving his tongue into the narrow space, thrusting with it suggestively.

Harry gave an enormous moan, and Voldemort's brain cartwheeled. He barely kept control enough to gather his wand from his robes. "I can't hold back any longer...you're intoxicating." Slowly, Tom took the end of his wand within his mouth and licked it. It buzzed in his hand, as though it knew what was coming, and then he moved it down to Harry's rear, pressing the tip within slowly. The cleaning spell was uttered, and then a spell Harry didn't know. Riddle withdrew his wand slowly, and Harry whimpered softly, wanting to pressure back. "Wait! Don't you think I'm finding it hard waiting?! You should see yourself!" He calmed himself down, and began to strip quickly, throwing his robes to the floor swiftly. Harry gasped slightly, only barely keeping himself down on the bed. Riddle smirked at the twitch of movement and then cast the lubrication spell he had used inside Harry on his own engorged arousal.

Harry was trembling constantly for him, moaning and arching every few seconds, trying to wriggle closer to Riddle somehow. Oh, how he wanted it. This delighted Riddle more; the unbridled lust in Harry's eyes. He would simply have to bridle it. He licked the back of his teeth with delight, and then dived to steal Harry's lips firmly, as he guided his pained length to Harry's entrance. He pressed the tip there and Harry's eyes flew open as he had expected them to. His own eyes glittered with his evil smirk, which he let Harry's lips know was there, absorbing the expression on his face physically as he drove his lubricated length slowly, purposefully into the waiting reciprocal.

Harry's mouth formed all sorts of delightful shapes against Riddle's. He was shaking more now. This was Voldemorts erection filling him, and it felt good. There was no pain, and Harry knew that that was something to do with the less than normal spell Riddle had used. In fact, it felt wonderful. The feeling fled up and down his body, heating him. Riddle's length seemed to stretch him perfectly, filling every hole within Harry that he felt he needed. He finally stopped mouthing obscenities into Riddle's mouth and instead moaned, loudly.

Tom retreated, licking his lips. The moan had filled his mouth. It was perfect. He looked down into Harry's desperate, loving, trustful eyes, at how the boy wanted more, and then he struggled to locate his wand, lifting it to Harry. "Good boy. Now...hold still." Something snaked out of Riddle's wand, caught his hands and tugged him firmly to the bed, something else crossed his hips, stopping him rising up against Voldemort when he thrust down upon him, giving the Dark Lord utmost control. It bound Harry's feet too and he arched his head back slightly, thankfully nothing came to hold his neck in place, as Harry tested the strength of the bonds. Riddle's eyes moved over Harry's. He wasn't afraid. He was meant to still be afraid.

Riddle lifted his wand again, and in a soothing voice, cast a less powerful `Crucio' then usual. Harry screamed in pain and writhed in his bonds, but the spell wasn't powerful enough to wipe away all of Harry's pleasure. He withdrew his wand, let it fall to the ground, and Harry's wild eyes circled up on the Slytherin. "I'm in control here..." he whispered, leering closer. "You will scream and beg for me...but you will not lust for me. I am still Lord Voldemort." He split his words firmly in that last sentence, then moved back to resuming his prior actions. Harry was reminded of the intense pleasure of being filled, but now his back ached, reminding him of what would happen if he wanted it too much.

He struggled slightly, the bonds were driving him insane as Riddle paced slowly, in, out, in, out, purposeful and grimly, as though it were a death march. "Beg." Riddle commanded and Harry sealed his eyes closed and arched on the bed, as far as his bonds would let him.

"Voldemort, please." Harry panted and whined. "Please take me harder. Fuck me till I can't feel myself any longer. Please Gods, Voldemort please. I'll do anything! Anything!"

He struggled in his bonds desperately as Tom interrupted him. "Anything, Harry? Will you call me the `Dark Lord,' your `Master' for the rest of your life?"

Harry didn't see the harm in that. He was stupid. He should've known that such words were in essence wizard contract. "I will, Master, anything!"

And suddenly there was a burning pain in his left arm, being held by the thick vines. He screamed in pain again and bucked sharply, breaking one of the vines. It automatically snaked around him again, holding him tightly.

Voldemort fixed his eyes on Harry for a few moments. "Stupid Gryffindor..." he whispered softly. "You're mine now..." He leant up, turning Harry's wrist in the bond, the vines let him, and he pulled it up slowly for Harry to see. Burned in black on his otherwise clear pale flesh was a skull, with a snake as it's tongue. The snake writhed slightly as Voldemort touched the mark and Harry screamed again into the crisp air. Riddle was laughing maniacally as Harry stared in disbelief at the Dark Mark in place on his arm.

Riddle dropped Harry's arm and it was tugged back into place, as he slipped back and began a faster pace this time, pounding into Harry's exposed rear. Desperate as he was not to be aroused, focusing on what had just happened; Harry couldn't fight his straining erection. Nor could he fight the pounding of Riddle into that one sweet spot deep within him that made his heart pound faster, his stomach turn flip-flops and his head spin.

His throat broke and he spilled desperate moans into the cool air. The new sound only made Riddle move faster, driving deeper and harder into Harry's prone form. The Gryffindor clutched tightly at the bedclothes, unable to push back against Riddle's motions. But it was so good. His head was swimming with pleasure, his balls were tightening, his rear tightening with them, in an attempt to stop himself. He felt something hot jet into his rear, increasing the pressure against his prostrate in that one sweet motion and hot fire sped down him, ejecting itself all over his own stomach.

Voldemort slid himself free, moving down to lick Harry's seed from his stomach. "You dirty little whore, Potter. You loved that, didn't you?"

Of course Harry loved it. It had been incredible. But the shame was creeping up on Harry now. He had lost his virginity before he was even born, to the man who stole his parent's lives and ruined his own, and he had let him.

Tears freed themselves from his eyes, streaking down his face and he found that the bonds had gone, he pulled himself up tightly and Voldemort laughed mockingly. "See you in the future, whore."

Harry didn't even realise that Riddle had cast a spell on him, but he opened his eyes slowly after about ten minutes, feeling unbelievably sleepy. There was a sound coming up the stairs, and Harry swiftly hid his naked body under his blankets, aware of the wet stickiness on his stomach, and dripping down from his rear over his thigh. He opened his eyes a little wider and peered over the top of his blanket as the other boys came in and took their beds.

They were all giggling madly, and Harry wondered why. He suspected he had only been dreaming, he hoped so, but the sticky mess he was in didn't encourage him that this was the truth. He just wanted to go back to sleep, the hissing was just leaving his ears now, clearing as though he had only just came out of the faint, and his stomach was hurting again, along with his arm. Harry hoped above all hopes that he'd just banged it on something.

They were still giggling and Harry growled and set up. "Will you lot stop giggling like schoolgirls and tell me what was so funny?!" There was something that didn't belong to him in his voice and he recognised it instantly, something that sounded a bit like Voldemort. The others didn't notice though, and Ron crept out of bed, showing Harry a magazine he had found, while looking for something else in Snape's drawers on a dare. There, collapsed on Riddle's bed, arched back, panting and heaving, moaning into the cool air, his arousal lifted into the air, was he, Harry.

The Gryffindor blanched and the rest of the group looked at him quickly. He didn't know quite why he was telling them, but he said it anyway. "That's me..."

"That's what we thought," Ron giggled. "This one's obviously been well used by old Snape. But look at the date, Harry."

Harry lifted his eyes obediently to the date, he knew what he would see there before he saw it. "1949," He read, turning his eyes back to Ron.

His friend was peering at him curiously, as though he could read his mind like Dumbledore, Snape and Riddle. "You can't tell me you know something about this...?" he asked softly and Harry put on his best ignorant expression and shook his head, as he would to a Potions question he didn't know the answer to for Professor Snape.

"Don't know a thing."

Harry took the magazine off Ron none the less, and locked it in his trunk. Tomorrow he would go to see Snape about several things. Why he was masturbating over ancient pictures of Harry, and what he should do about the mark that was no doubt the reason his arm was in such horrible pain. He slumped down on the bed and examined his arm quietly, as Riddle hadn't given him time to do. It was as crisp and black as it had been in Riddle's presence, but the snake didn't move like when he touched it. He closed his eyes slowly. That meant that his once lover was still alive.

He closed his eyes at that and sighed, wishing it would all go away. His life just got more and more complicated every single day.

At least he could look forwards to confronting Snape. The Potions Master might have not been the prettiest boy in the book, but he was lusting after Harry, and now Harry knew it. That could be a powerful weapon. He casually bet with himself that he could have Snape in bed by the end of the week, and then went off into dreaming about how he would go about completing such a task.  
At least he wasn't a virgin anymore.

_Fin_


End file.
